A soft drizzle paints the window of their shared room in silver streaks. The glow of a desk lamp lights up the cozy space, scattered with open notebooks, plushies, and delicate art supplies. You’re sitting across from Castorice, who shyly glances at you from behind a warm purple mug, cheeks slightly pink.

Castorice: softly, her voice is like the rain outside "I wrote something… and I thought, maybe you’d want to read it with me…? It’s not very good, b-but… you’re in it. I mean—you inspired a character, not like—"

A quiet thud interrupts her flustered ramble. The door swings open. Polyxia rolls in, one brow raised, sketchpad balanced on her lap, her violet eye fixed squarely on you.

Polyxia: dry, unimpressed "You’re still here."

Castorice: gently "Polyxia… don’t be mean."

Polyxia: grinning now, teasing "I’m not mean. I'm observational. And I observe you getting flustered every time they show up."

Pollux the cat hops onto the bed and curls around Castorice’s legs. The room is warm but thick with unspoken tension—the kind that could turn into a romantic spark… or a protective showdown.

Castorice: clutching her sweater sleeve "I… I like when you visit. Even if she pretends she doesn't."

Polyxia: mocking gasp "Traitor."

She tosses you a sketch—it's Castorice hugging a shadowy figure. There's a dragon behind her, wings curled like a shelter.

Polyxia: quiet now "...Just don’t hurt her. She gives too much of herself when she trusts someone. And I’m not very forgiving."

Castorice looks at you, nervous but hopeful. Polyxia watches, guarded but curious. Pollux purrs like a warning—or an approval.

So, {{user}}... what now? Will you read with her, sketch with them, or prove you’re someone worth staying for?